


The Genie of the Teapot

by finnemoreshusband



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: AU, Genie!Martin, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 18:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finnemoreshusband/pseuds/finnemoreshusband
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU-ish.  Arthur's mum needs to find a pilot for her (very) small charter plane company, and he can tell she's worried about not finding one she can afford even though she won't say anything about it.  So he goes for a walk to think of a way to help her.  Just when he begins to realise he'd probably do more harm than good, he finds something that may come in handy.</p><p>Inspired by a prompt on the kink meme.</p><p>(Will be updated after I go back to school around the 26th of August)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Genie of the Teapot

**Author's Note:**

> This story isn't quite a fill (because I don't know if this is exactly what the OP had in mind...) but it was inspired by this (quite old) anonymous prompt on the kink meme: "Instead of the attic of perpetual poverty, Martin lives inside a teapot. (It doesn't matter whose teapot it is. For all I care, he can be a Man with a Teacup, or a Man with a Spoon... or whatever ... as long as he lives in a teapot!)"
> 
> It can be found at the link below.
> 
> http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/6034.html?thread=9056402#cmt9056402
> 
> Will most likely end with Martin/Arthur. Hopefully much happier than my other magical skipthur fic.

Arthur walked past the kitchen, backtracking when he saw his mother sitting at the table. He watched her for a little as she leafed through papers and punched on a calculator.

She didn't look up and see him in the doorway, and he walked past before she would notice him there. He left the house, trying to get his brain to think harder about how he could help her.

He always did his best thinking while out for a walk. Any time he had a problem, he went outside, letting the brightness of the sun and the sounds of the birds and the pleasant faces of strangers inspire him.

This problem was a lot tougher than how to piece together a puzzle or coming up with new original recipes. His mother needed a pilot for her plane, or else she'd have to end her business. And he didn't want that. He loved being a steward on her plane, and he knew she loved running the business. So he simply wouldn't, couldn't allow it to fail.

Even after walking for several minutes, Arthur hadn't come up with a way to help. He certainly couldn't fly; he'd wanted to be a pilot at one point, but discovered he much preferred the more helpful position of steward.

He didn't have any pilot friends that he could ask.

He'd even looked on the internet, but had no luck.

And, to be honest, he knew that sometimes he helped too much and ended up making things worse. He didn't do it on purpose, he just didn't know when to stop. And he really didn't want to do something that would make his mum's problem worse.

His thoughts were distracted when he passed by a shoppe he'd never seen before. It must've been knew, because he knew all the shoppes and cafés on his usual route.

It was a rather small shoppe in a line of connected structures. It displayed a simple blue-text-on-white-background sign reading Antiques. The small window showed off a sample of the treasures housed inside; a dried out and flaking painting leaned against an even worse off easel, two heavy-looking metal dogs stood atop a linen-draped pedestal, and an array of angel knick-knacks and salt shakers were scattered around the base of the window.

He ventured inside, wondering if he might find something interesting and to welcome the newcomers to the neighborhood.

Usually, when going in somewhere, someone called out some kind of greeting. But this place was completely quiet when he entered. He checked the door, finding they were indeed open. 

Figuring whoever ran the place would most likely be back soon, he had a look around. There were a lot of nice things. Like fancy hairbrushes with rusted metal handles and yellowed, dusty bristles. And dark clay pots with pictures of colorful people dancing around the edges.

The thing that really grabbed his attention, though, was a teapot.

It wasn't like the teapot he used at home. It wasn't like any he'd ever seen before, really.

The pot was small, small enough to set comfortably on the palm of his hand. The body of the pot was a shiny black, smooth to the touch without any bumps or cracks. The handle and spout looked like pure gold, with a lid to match.

He handled the pot gently, turning it over to see if there was anything stamped on the bottom. But it was as smooth as the rest of it.

“Careful,” a voice said from the front of the shoppe.

Arthur looked up, thankful he hadn't dropped the pot when he was startled. “What kind of pot is this?”

The young girl at the counter shrugged. “Don't know. I just work the register. You gonna buy it, or what?”

\---

Arthur walked home slowly, paying careful attention to every step. His left hand clutched a paper bag, which kept his newest purchase safe.

He managed to get it back to his room without breaking it. Quite an accomplishment, for him.

He took it out of the bag, unwrapping it from the brown paper the cashier had taped around it, and set it in front of where he sat on his bed. It was simple, but compelled him to stare at it, to give it his full attention.

Then, all of a sudden, looking wasn't enough. He needed to feel it again, feel the smooth curve against his fingers.

So he reached out, and grasped it in both his hands, and used a thumb to give the spout a long, gentle caress.

When the pot started to vibrate, Arthur dropped it, glad he'd only been holding it a few inches above his soft blanket. He looked closer, and he could see the vibrations now. It emitted a soft hum, and a low clanking noise as the lid shook in its crevice.

Arthur was sure he had done something very bad when wisps of red smoke poured out of the golden spout. He leaned away, but kept his eyes fixed on the puddle of smoke forming around the teapot.

The smoke stopped leaking from the spout once the cloud completely engulfed the teapot. Then, as if someone had turned on an exhaust fan, the smoke dissipated.

Arthur looked around, eyes wide and mouth agape, wondering what had just happened, when he heard another clank from the lid of the pot.

“Erm, excuse me?” a muffled voice said. “Could you let me out, please?”

“Who said that?”

“I did!” the voice said louder, with a bit of a backing echo. “In here!”

Arthur looked down. “In the teapot?”

“Obviously.”

After scratching his head, Arthur plucked the lid off the teapot. And he watched as two tiny arms popped out, latching onto the rim and hoisting out the tiny man attached to them. The man tried to climb out, but when he swung a leg over the rim, the pot tipped forward, dumping him onto the bed.

“Well, that's one way to do it,” the man mumbled to himself. He stood up, brushed off the old-fashioned suit he wore, ran his fingers through his curly ginger hair, and finally looked up at Arthur like he was expecting something.

“You came out of my teapot.”

“Technically it's my teapot. I live in it, after all.”

“You live in a teapot?”

“It's not as bad as it sounds.”

Arthur frowned in confusion. “But how...”

“It's bigger on the inside.”

“Like a TARDIS?”

The man huffed. “What is a TARDIS? The last three people I've served have said that to me but not one of them told me what it was.”

“It's a spaceship in a television show.”

“Television...” Martin mouthed, still looking confused.

“So, who are you and why do you live in a teapot.”

“Oh, right. Hello, I'm Martin, Genie of the teapot. Now that you've freed me, you get three wishes. You can't wish for more wishes, and I can't kill anyone or bring anyone back from the dead. I can't make anyone fall in love, or out of love, for that matter. I can't make money; if you wish for money, it has to come from somewhere, so technically it's stealing and I just won't do it so please don't ask. That's it, I think...”

“You're a genie?”

Martin nodded. “I am. And you are?”

“My name is Arthur. You don't seem like a genie.”

“Why not?”

“Well,” Arthur started, putting his hand on his chin, “shouldn't you be bigger? And shouldn't you have shoes that curl up and metal cuffs on your wrists? And shouldn't you live in a lamp? And—”

“That's a lot of questions,” Martin interrupted. “But no, genies are this size, as far as I know. And when I was turned into one, I was just sort of stuck in what I was wearing at the time. I've tried to change it, but I can't. And genies can live in anything. When I was made into one, I was put into a teapot. I don't know why.”

“You weren't always a genie?”

“No, I was a very respectable, professional businessman, thank you very much. Now, what's your first wish.”

“Hmm...” Arthur thought. He didn't often think about wishing for things for himself. “What would you wish for?”

“I've had my wishes,” Martin said darkly. “And now I'm here to grant yours.”

“Well, what do you think I should wish for?”

“What's something you've always wanted but never had?”

Arthur looked down. “A friend, I suppose.”

Martin's face softened, and suddenly he felt bad about his slightly harsh attitude.

“I mean,” Arthur continued, “I know lots of nice people. And there are plenty of people who always talk to me, and smile at me, and listen to me babble for a few minutes. But I never really had a friend that just wanted to spend time with me.”

“I can't make someone want to be your friend; that's tied to love and my magic just doesn't work like that. But... I don't have any friends either...”

“Are you offering to be friends with me?”

“Yes?” Martin answered, somewhat unsure. “Although, once you've used up your final wish, I get sent back into the lamp, so that's probably not a very valuable offer.”

“Will you be a genie forever?”

Martin sighed. “Most likely. The only way out of it that I know of is to trick someone into trading places with me, and I just can't do that.”

“Oh. Is that how you became a genie? You were tricked?”

“Yes.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault, you weren't the one who tricked me.”

They stayed silent for a while, martin patiently waiting for what he assumed Arthur was thinking up as his first wish.

“What if I wished you free?” Arthur asked suddenly.

Martin's lips fell open. “What?”

“What if I used one of my wishes to set you free? Would that work?”

“I... I don't know. No one's ever tried it before.”

“Well then I will. I wish—”

“Wait, wait!” Martin stopped him. “Don't use that as your first wish. That's the kindest thing anyone has ever offered me, but if it works I might not have magic anymore, and you should at least get the other two for yourself. After you say 'I wish' I'm magically bound to grant it, if it's within my power, that is. And occasionally my personal morals win out, but that's very confusing and takes a long time to explain...” He trailed off, and waited for Arthur to make his first wish.

“I don't know what to wish for.”

Martin thought. He usually didn't have to help people think of wishes. Everyone he'd served had been either terribly selfish, making wishes that were in his power but able to hurt people in some way, or were normal people who had wants and needs and used their wishes for those. No one, thankfully, had ever caused any cosmic damage. “Is there anything you need?”

“No,” Arthur said, shaking his head. Then he remembered. “But my mum needs a pilot!”

“A pilot?” The announcement sparked Martin's curiosity. “I... I used to want to be a pilot...”

“Really?”

“Really. Aircraft was so fascinating to me. I'd planned on... seeing if I could get into it in the future. I was pretty young, after all, but then this happened...”

“I have an idea,” Arthur exclaimed. “If I wish you free, and it works, you could be our pilot! And then we'd get to see each other every day and be friends because you wouldn't be stuck in the teapot anymore.”

“I don't know...”

“It'd be brilliant!”

“Arthur.”

“What?”

“I'm supposed to be granting your wishes, not the other way round.”

Arthur chuckled. “I can't help it, I just like helping people.”

“I wish more people were like you. I've never met anyone so kind, as a human or a genie.”

Arthur smiled, a bit of blush rising to his cheeks. “Thanks.”

Martin returned the smile. “So, have you thought of a wish yet?”

“Can I have the night to think about it?

“Of course.”

“Are you going back into the teapot then?”

Martin nodded. “Yes. It is my home, after all.”

“Alright. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Arthur. Dream up a good wish.”

Arthur gave a salute as the red smoke returned, flowing back into the spout of the teapot.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't go through and edit this and it might not even make sense so feel free to tell me everything wrong with it.


End file.
